I wish my dreams weren’t interrupted by that bossy voice of common sense
which breaks them, corrupts them by correcting figments of my sub-conscience.
A creature runs on two legs, stretches, drops to four – an animal now, its loping speed
lifts it high and in the sky it soars – it is me.
Far beneath, open seas with islands small and green.
Did those below raise their eyes? Within this dream, I’m never seen.
In my dreams I’ve never been a floater drifting downstream in a small and simple boat.
I’ve always been a flyer – making life happen, climbing ever higher.
This dream and what it seems returns, night after night,
bringing pure thrill of fantasy, never fright.
I awaken gradually, feeling courage and peace – a child’s recurring dream;
as adult now, it’s ceased.
“Grown-up” themes reoccur too often in my evenings.
Someone once advised me – recurring dreams will come
if during wakeful hours there was something left overdone.
Luckily for me, an inner common sense breaks through fantasy or nightmare
and dismisses nonsense hence.
A dream that angers me keeps returning. Dark schools, classrooms with no learning:
students neglected, aggressive, resentful, vandalistic –
My voice of reason interjects “This isn’t realistic” and I wake,
resenting the dreamtime feeling it was I supposed to fix it.
CSI, NCIS, Bones, Criminal Intent, Criminal Minds…
I watched them all, reruns too.
Then, when I draw the blinds, there comes a recurring nightmare –
blood, anger, weapons, corpses everywhere. I, an observer only,
in terror praying for calm. The voice of reason reassures me
I’m in no harm – and I wake, glad to break out of all the blood and gore,
but knowing this deathless nightmare will return.
That internal voice of common sense, of reality and reason,
with its cynical interjection of a dream’s absurdity –
I welcome its disruption of recurring dreams of incubus.
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